


Light Me Up

by Mazarin221b



Category: My Engineer (TV)
Genre: Boxing, Boyfriends, First Time, King is thirsty, M/M, Ram is hot, Shower Sex, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26616298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/pseuds/Mazarin221b
Summary: The sweat begins to shine on Ram’s skin the longer they spar, the black diamond tattoo between his shoulder blades stark under the lights. Ram’s body is graceful and strong, compact and sexy as hell, and King can’t stop watching the shift and play of muscle under his skin as he moves.He wonders how that body will feel under his hands, pressed against his own, and he has to suppress a shiver when Ram glances his way and gives him a tilted smile.
Relationships: King/Ram (My Engineer)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 230





	Light Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly this took much, much too long for me to write. But now we get S2 AND we apparently get a new series with Perth and Lay and I'M HERE FOR IT.

King kicks the door of his condo closed before he toes off his shoes, drops his bag in the hall, and collapses face first into his sofa. 

Fuck, what a day. Two presentations and one pop quiz, zero time for lunch and at least two more iced coffees than he probably should have had on an empty stomach. The caffeine is still buzzing through his veins and leaving him jittery and unsettled, while at the same time he’s mentally exhausted enough to consider just sleeping right here, fully dressed and unshowered, drool collecting under the corner of his mouth where it’s mashed into the cushions. 

Gross. 

King turns his head and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He drops it on the floor and hangs his head over the side of the cushion to see the screen. He’s just so fucking tired. And hungry. Maybe he could convince Ram to bring him food. He is a senior after all, and King has no problem shamelessly taking advantage of that fact to get the underclassmen to do his dirty work for him. It’s only fair, all the free tutoring he gives them.

Besides that, he hasn’t seen Ram in a few days, not since they’d been caught making out under the shade of the Bili tree in the park, Ram’s hand an incriminating distance up the back of King’s shirt. He couldn’t help it; Ram was just so sexy, and the pretty blush that had dusted across his pale cheeks as he whispered “Please be my faen, P’King,” and held King’s hand had been so damn cute King couldn’t resist. He practically tackled Ram onto the grass, clambering into his lap and kissing Ram until their mouths were sore and a few particularly loud whistles caught their attention. They’d broken apart, almost startled, chests heaving and grinning at each other like lunatics. Boyfriends it was, then. 

But that had been all. 

King spent the next few nights dreaming about the feel of Ram’s shoulders under his palms, the sweet taste of skin along his jaw and Ram’s panting breaths in his ear. But before they could get much further than those few stolen kisses, fate, in the form of a particularly demanding professor and a real bitch of a Fluid Dynamics class, managed to intervene.

King sighs. Two days without seeing Ram and dinner could be solved with one simple text, if he could just get the energy together to send it.

_WYD?_ he finally manages. 

_Gym,_ comes the reply, followed a second later by a picture of a flushed and sweaty Ram, shirtless, leaning against the ropes of a boxing ring, the tip of the patterned triangle tattoo on his chest just barely visible in the frame. 

King’s mouth goes dry. Suddenly he’s not quite so tired. _Dinner?_ King types with shaky fingers.

Seconds tick by before King sees the text dots jumping in the corner of his screen. _Meet me here and we’ll go_ , Ram replies, followed by an address.

King practically bolts for the door.

………………………………………………………………………………….

The taxi drops him off in a part of Bangkok he’s pretty sure he’s never seen before - a mix of storefronts and restaurants with apartment houses on top, brightly lit neon and plastic signs glowing in the humid dusk. King scans the storefronts until he sees it - the small, gold stenciled lettering of “Lion’s Head Boxing Academy” on a double glass door, between the barber shop and the used electronics store. The door squeals alarmingly loudly as he steps inside, and all heads turn his way.

King swallows heavily. Most of the people in this gym are huge - strong, trained fighters who could probably take King’s head off of his shoulders with a single swing, if they chose. He stops stock still, next to a row of treadmills. 

“May I help you?” a voice says from his elbow. 

King jumps and turns around and there, barely as tall as his shoulder, is a woman with a sweep of long, silver hair with purple tips caught up in a high ponytail, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement. “I um, I’m just here to meet a friend. He said he’d be here.” King scans the weight machines, the stack of free weights and benches, and the row of heavy bags. “But I don’t see him.”

“What’s his name? He might be in the back,” She says, and gestures for King to follow her. “We’ve got the ring set up behind this wall, that way we don’t get lurkers at the front window.” She parts a curtain and ushers King through into a bigger room, one with high ceilings and a bit stronger air con. A boxing ring is set up in the center, lights trained directly on it, with the rest of the room bathed in shadow. 

“There he is,” King breathes. Ram is in the ring, gloves on and shirtless. He raises his gloves to demonstrate a particular movement for his trainer, and King’s pulse quickens at the glimpse of the tattoo he can see right at the waistband of Ram’s satin boxing shorts, shadows playing over the dip of his abs. 

“Oh, nong Ram?,” the woman says, then turns to look at King with narrowed eyes. “Are you actually a friend? Because he’s not had friends come here before.”

Clearly Ram has friends here though, King realizes, as he watches this petite woman with absolutely killer biceps quietly size him up. King thinks about his own willowy thin self and sighs. “Yes, he’s my junior at school. And my friend.” He’s not particularly interested in explaining to her anything further about what, exactly, he is to Ram. Boyfriend, right? They did sort of talk that out, and King remembers the taste of Ram’s lips against his own in the shade of the trees, a bit of stubble burn around his mouth a little reminder as he tried to sleep that night. 

It’s at this moment Ram drops his hands and heads over to the side for a sip of water. He catches King’s eye and raises a glove in greeting, a half-smile tugging at the side of his mouth. King can’t help but smile back, but Ram doesn’t see it - he turns to his opponent in the ring and assumes his fighting stance. King admires how Ram balances on the balls of his feet, his body primed to explode as he shifts his weight in a mirror of the man opposite him in the ring.

The man facing Ram is taller but thinner, his skin much darker and almost as covered in tattoos as Ram’s own, a dragon curling over his shoulder and down his forearm. The man steps in to take a first swing at Ram but he dances out of the way, his hands up in a perfect block. Ram takes a quick jab at his opponent in response. The blow lands off center, glancing off of his opponents shoulder. Frown lines appear around Ram’s mouth as he resets, and King can feel his own heart beat speed as he watches, adrenaline leaving his mouth dry and his hands clammy with sweat. Ram is well matched, it seems, and King wonders how long the fight will go. Until he’s knocked out? Until he gives up? 

The sweat begins to shine on Ram’s skin the longer they spar, the black diamond tattoo between his shoulder blades stark under the lights. Ram’s body is graceful and strong, compact and sexy as hell, and King can’t stop watching the shift and play of muscle under his skin as he moves. 

He wonders how that body will feel under his hands, pressed against his own, and he has to suppress a shiver when Ram glances his way and gives him a tilted smile. 

Ram turns back to his opponent, determination clear in the set of his shoulders. King is fascinated. He’s watched Ram fight before, when Bohn recklessly accepted his challenge to fight over Duen. Bohn was a fearless fighter, but King could tell Ram was going easy on him. Now, watching Ram land an effortless cross on a man who holds a clear advantage in reach, King knows just how much Ram was holding back. A surge of affection fills him as he the significance of that little bit of theater sinks in. Ram only wanted to protect his friend, not issue a beat down to a weaker opponent. 

Despite his quick feet and fast reflexes, Ram catches an uppercut under the jaw and stumbles back for a moment. King realizes he must have moved or startled, because the woman next to him stills him with a hand on his arm.

“Wait,” she murmurs. “He’s fine, trust me. He’s got this.”

Ram shakes off the blow then drops his shoulders slightly, and King watches as the set of his brow becomes deeper, the little frown lines appearing on the bridge of his nose. That probably doesn’t bode well for the guy he’s fighting, honestly, and as this thought passes through King’s mind, Ram blocks another blow from his opponent, then rears back and lands a devastating hook right to the man’s right temple. He staggers back until he’s leaning against the ropes, and raises his hand in defeat.

“Enough,” the man gasps, and King smirks as the man taps Ram on the shoulder. “I didn’t realize your left was so strong.”

“No one ever does,” the trainer says from the floor. “I did try to warn you, but...”

Ram just smiles and turns back to pull his gloves off and pick up a towel. He runs it over his face and hair, and then his chest. King can’t stop staring. His biceps were always distracting, but in this moment, Ram’s body flushed with exertion, a fine pink hue overtaking his neck and chest, King is hit with the full knowledge of just how Ram might look if King pushed him down on his bed and climbed over him, kissed him the way he longs to. 

The thought must show on his face, because King blinks to find Ram staring at him from over the ropes. His eyes are dark and intent, and King can feel goosebumps rise on his skin in the cool air of the gym. 

“Ram, I’m going back up front. Take care of your friend, na?” The woman next to King calls, then pats King on the shoulder. “Good luck,” she whispers, a wry smile the only hint that she probably knows, now, that King is more than Ram’s friend. King swallows heavily and nods, and watches Ram climb between the ropes and hop down to the floor. 

“Come,” he says, and inclines his head toward a door in the back. 

King doesn’t have to be told twice. He follows meekly behind Ram, eyes trained on the nape of Ram’s neck, the edge of his hair still spiky wet. Ram leads him through the door, into a small hall, and through another door into the locker room. King can hear a shower running around the corner as Ram opens a locker and stows his gloves in it. The smell of leather, of Ram’s sweat and his shampoo, hangs heavy in the air. 

“Need a shower, then dinner, okay?” Ram pulls out a towel and a small wash bag, and clangs the locker shut. “P’King,” he prompts. King swallows heavily.

“Yeah, fine, sure. I’ll just...wait here.” King drops down onto the bench next to Ram’s locker and leans back against it. This particular view isn’t much easier, the cut of Ram’s abs right at King’s eye level. King tamps down hysteria at the thought of leaning over and dragging his tongue around Ram’s belly button. 

Ram raises a single eyebrow before disappearing around the corner. The man who was in the shower when they arrived passes by, fully dressed and arms full of towel and clothes and bag. He shoves the entire mess into his locker and clips the lock on and leaves without a word, and King realizes why the whole place smells just a bit musty.

He’s contemplating the horror of finding mildew on a towel that’s been stashed in a locker wet for a week when his phone buzzes. He drags it out of his pocket and thumbs it open to see a single text, oddly from Ram.

Forgot shampoo. Bring it, please? Thx.

King leans away from the bank of lockers and thinks he knows which is Ram’s. It doesn’t have a lock on, and when he opens it, yes, there are Rams red boxing gloves, a spare pair of shorts, and a small bottle of shampoo. King grabs it and heads around the corner.

The showers are a long bank of concrete stalls with curtains at the front. They look deep, probably deep enough so that someone could dry off and get dressed in privacy. King can see one, near the end, has the curtain pulled. 

“Ram?” he calls. “I’ve got it.”

An open hand appears from behind the blue plastic curtain. King holds out the shampoo bottle, and as soon as it touches Ram’s fingers, Ram flips his hand over in a flash and snags King’s wrist. A pair of dark eyes twinkling at him from the gap in the curtain is all he sees before he’s dragged inside.

“What the fu - what are you doing?” King says. He flattens a hand against the side of the shower stall to regain his balance, and in one glance realizes that Ram is, in fact, quite naked. Very, very naked. The shower is running, muffling the noise and filling the space with steam. King closes his eyes. 

“Um,” he squeaks. 

Ram carefully, slowly, pushes King’s back against the wall and cages him in with his arms. “Kissing my boyfriend,” Ram says, and drags his nose up the column of King’s throat before pressing a kiss to King’s fluttering pulse.

King gasps, and fights his knees giving out on him by holding Ram’s shoulders. “Oh, I’m...ah.” Ram kisses behind King’s ear and holy shit, King has never felt the kind of pleasure that cascades down his spine at that simple act, the kind of bliss that skitters down his nerves like lightning and settles deep in his body. King arches his neck so Ram can get better access even as he can feel a pinprick of worry at the back of his mind. “Someone might hear,” he whispers.

“Then be quiet,” Ram says. “Can you?” Ram punctuates this last question with a broad-palmed grope of King’s ass through his jeans. 

King jumps, then skates a hand down Ram’s back, the silk of his skin heavenly under King’s fingertips. Two can play this game. King grabs a handful of Ram’s ass and squeezes. “I can if you can.” 

King snickers as Ram very obviously fights down a yelp, then fixes King with a stare that’s half amused, half exasperated. King is about to press his advantage until he catches the shift in Ram’s expression a split second before his wrists are pinned to the wall over his head. Ram’s grip is firm, and if his lop-sided, mischievous grin is any indication, King is really in for it now. 

There’s something about Ram, King muses, as he tilts forward to catch Ram’s lips with his own, that makes him bold; that makes him ache and want like no one else has before. Ram’s lips are so soft, and the tang of sweat on his upper lip so addicting, that King melts back against the wall. Ram follows him to press his entire body down King’s front. King can feel the hardness of Ram’s cock against his hip, and he groans in spite of himself. “Want you,” he murmurs against Ram’s mouth. 

“Not here,” he replies, and kisses the corner of King’s mouth before releasing his wrists. “Not like this. But let me touch you, baby. Please.” 

King couldn’t deny that voice anything. Ram rarely speaks so many words, and King is absolutely on board with anything he asks for. So he unbuttons his jeans and shoves them and his boxers down his thighs, hissing in relief as his cock is freed to Ram’s hungry gaze. He’s so consumed by desire he forgets to be self conscious, and given the eagerness with which Ram reaches for him, King figures he doesn’t have anything to worry about. 

The first touch of Ram’s hand wrapped around his cock is bliss, and when Ram begins to stroke him, carefully at first and then with more confidence the more King quietly gasps and rocks into his hand. King can barely believe this is happening, Ram jerking him off in a shower stall while he whispers filthy, loving words in King’s ear and King holds his shoulders for dear life. 

“Beautiful, my P’King. So sexy,” Ram murmurs under his breath, King struggling to catch those precious words as he falls apart in Ram’s hands. He wants to give as much pleasure as he’s getting, though, and he gropes around between them until he can capture Ram’s cock in his hand and swipe a thumb over the tip. Ram’s strokes falter and he gasps into King’s shoulder.

King fights to focus as his orgasm begins to wind tight in his body. If he could just get his hand wet, he’s pretty sure he could bring Ram along with him as he comes. King pulls his hand back and licks his palm before he wraps it back around Ram’s cock. 

“Better?” he asks.

Ram’s head is buried against his shoulder, breath huffing into his neck, and his words are a blur as King feels himself reach the peak and slip over, his orgasm leaving him a shuddering wreck even as Ram sucks in a breath and everything is all at once warm and wet and quiet. 

The shower is still running, a curtain of white noise drowning out the rough edges of their breaths as they lean into each other. King stirs first and softly kisses Ram’s ear, Ram’s face still tucked into King’s neck. 

“You okay?” King asks gently. 

Ram nods. He lifts his head slightly, until he can brush a soft kiss over the corner of King’s mouth. King can feel his heart in his throat. “Yeah,” Ram says, then looks down at his hand. “Probably should shower,” he says wryly, and King chuckles. 

“Gonna wash my hands. Then maybe we go get that dinner you lured me here with.”

Ram blinks, then puts on a patently fake innocent look. “Me? I have no idea what you mean. You asked me to dinner first.”

King laughs. “You made me come here to get you. You knew exactly what you were doing with that picture, don’t even try it.” King wraps his arms around Ram’s neck and kisses him soundly. “But I’m glad you did,” he adds. “You look so sexy when you fight.”

Ram smiles. “I know,” he says, and winks.

**Author's Note:**

> Couple of things here:  
> -The song that King makes Ram listen to on the way to the volunteer camp is "I'm Into You" by Ariana Grande, according to the novel. King is obsessed with Ariana, which I find hilarious, and Ram apparently finds kind of annoying.  
> -I used the tattoos from the show as presented, not from the novel. IIRC, Ram also has a tattoo of a moon on one finger, which...yeah. Nice.  
> -Also, Perth needs to stop winking at the camera. It's sexy af and makes my heart hurt.


End file.
